After your breakup with your ex-fiancé, you had been determined to turn the page—new city, new apartment.

And for the first time in a while, things were falling into place. You had landed a job in your field, something that gave you purpose, something that pulled you out of your own problems. Teaching. Guiding kids through their first year of school, helping them navigate the world.

Each child in your class was different—some were shy, others full of energy, a few troublemakers in the mix—but with time, patience, you found a way to connect with them all.

One little girl, though, had attached herself to you more than the rest.

Izzy.

You knew her father was raising her alone, that he was a soldier who often had to leave her in the care of family due to his job. She was bright, strong-willed, and had a way of making you smile even on the hardest days.

But then, her drawings started to catch your attention.

At first, they were just sweet—crayon sketches of her and her dad. But then, slowly, you began to notice a new figure in them. You.

And not just as her teacher. No, every drawing had the same wobbly, childlike handwriting scrawled across the top: My Family.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

After class, you dialed her father’s number, requesting a meeting. His voice over the phone was deep, steady—one of those voices that carried weight even through a call.

An hour later, a knock on your classroom door pulled you from your thoughts.

And then he walked in.

Simon Riley.

You weren’t sure what you had expected—but this wasn’t it.

Keeping things professional, you handed him the folder of drawings, watching as he flipped through them, one brow arching slightly. You caught the flicker of amusement in his sharp eyes.

“Oh,” he murmured, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. “So that’s what she meant when she said she found me a date.”

His lips twitched, gaze lingering on the drawings.

“Little matchmaker. But I must say that you look way better than in the drawing."